


surprise

by mousewritings



Series: one-word prompt drabbles [24]
Category: Tron - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28455897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousewritings/pseuds/mousewritings
Summary: The Renegade’s mask is completely blank, totally impassive, and extremely frustrating to look at. Zed, at one point, had wanted to punch it. And right now? He still does.
Relationships: Zed/The Renegade
Series: one-word prompt drabbles [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948030
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	surprise

**Author's Note:**

> prompt is by @towriteprompts on tumblr

“I need your help.”

Zed startles, screams, and drops the code wrench. “Don’t _do_ that!” he yells, turning to glare at him.

But the Renegade’s mask is completely blank, totally impassive, and extremely frustrating to look at. Zed, at one point, had wanted to punch it. And right now? He still does.

“Sorry,” the Renegade says, not sounding sorry at all in Zed’s opinion.

“Whatever.” Zed collects himself, picks up the code wrench, and stands up. He _guesses_ the bike can wait. “What do you need help with, exactly?”

The Renegade seems to… hesitate. Which is weird. Isn’t this the guy who blew up Clu’s statue or something? And this silence sucks. It’s giving Zed too big of an opportunity to stare at the Renegade. Just look at him a little. Give him a small once-over and think about that time they worked together and how he’d stood just a _little_ too close—

Users, _no_. He’s _not_ doing this right now.

“I need someone to gather intel for me,” the Renegade finally says. “Since the Occupation’s made this garage a center of their operations, I could use someone on the inside. An informant.”

Zed resists the urge to roll his eyes. Wait—no, he doesn’t. He rolls his eyes _good_ and makes sure the Renegade can see it. “Look, just because we’re, like, _acquaintances_ now or whatever doesn’t mean I’m willing to risk my life carrying ones and zeroes to literally the _most wanted program_ on the Grid. Go find someone else to do your suicide missions, okay? _Respectfully_.”

He swears he hears the Renegade let out an exasperated sigh. He’s going to ignore that.

“I’m asking you,” the Renegade says after a pause, “because I know you care. Because you’re reliable, and you stand up for what you believe in in your own way. I honestly can’t think of many programs who can come even close to that. And”—he steps closer, puts a hand on Zed’s shoulder—“I think you’re a lot more capable than you realize.”

Zed would later wish that he said something back. Something like, “You’re damn right.” Or, “Yeah, I _know_.” Just something mildly clever that would make the Renegade back off a little. What he does in that moment, though, is stare. A lot. And think about the Renegade touching his shoulder. And say, a little dumbly, “Uh. Okay?”

The Renegade pats his shoulder. “Good,” he says, and turns to leave. “We’ll work out the details later.”

“Hey—wait! I didn’t agree to anything!” Zed exclaims, but the Renegade’s already gone, like he was never here.

Zed groans. Turns back to the lightcycle he was working on before he was so _rudely_ interrupted.

Crushing on an enemy of the state who seems absolutely determined to get him derezzed, huh? What a surprise.


End file.
